


i can hear the sea.

by wadingpool



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beaches, Brazil, Drinking, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Homesickness, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Lost Love, M/M, Marine Biologist Hinata Shoyo, No Volleyball, Reunions, Sports Journalist Oikawa Tooru, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wadingpool/pseuds/wadingpool
Summary: Despite the seven years of separation, the beauty he had met on that beach in Rio remained untouched by the passage of time. Shoyo’s hand hung in the air, reaching for the folded, glossy paper that laid in his shirt pocket, seeking the familiar feel of the old photograph he carried with him. He didn’t need to take it out—not when both of the subjects of the photo were present in the same metro station, the only barrier being the tracks that laid between them. The announcement rang, the metro will arrive shortly. Shoyo took a deep breath and he ran towards the boy he kept in his pocket.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	i can hear the sea.

He didn’t know what compelled him to look up at that precise moment. Was it the shuffling of the college student sipping their coffee as they listened to music on their phone? Or was it the bright laughter of the little girl as she pulled her mother towards the couple who was accompanied by their dog? Shoyo did not know, but all he knew was that when he lifted his head, his eyes landed on a person he never would’ve thought he would see again.

Despite the seven years of separation, the beauty he had met on that beach in Rio remained untouched by the passage of time. Shoyo’s hand hung in the air, reaching for the folded, glossy paper that laid in his shirt pocket, seeking the familiar feel of the old photograph he carried with him. He didn’t need to take it out—not when both of the subjects of the photo were present in the same metro station, the only barrier being the tracks that laid between them. The announcement rang, the metro will arrive shortly. Shoyo took a deep breath and he ran towards the boy he kept in his pocket.

* * *

Rio was different from Japan, having a character that left Shoyo confused and nervous. Long gone was the familiarity of Miyagi and the faces of his old high school friends were thousands of kilometers away. He stood in the airport, one hand gripping his luggage while the other held his phone in a vice grip, his knuckles turning white. Shoyo took a deep breath through his mask, looking around anxiously before jumping as his phone rang in his hand. He answered it, already feeling a surge of relief as his friend’s voice crackled through the speaker.

“Pedro,” exhaled Shoyo, the need to leave the overwhelming noise of the airport making him feel claustrophobic, “Are you here yet?” He heard his friend laugh, then say something in Portuguese to another person in the background. “Well hello to you too, Shoyo,” snarked back Pedro. Shoyo cringed, about to give an apology for his rudeness when Pedro continued, “I’m almost there, don’t worry. It’s just a little more crowded than usual,”

Shoyo sighed, shifting from one foot to the other, trying to see if he could recognize Pedro in the sea of strangers. “I see you. Can’t miss the red hair for anything,” Pedro said with a huffed laughter, “I’m towards your left.” Shoyo turned in the direction Pedro had said, spotting his friend as he raised a hand to him. Shoyo gripped his luggage as he carefully made his way to Pedro.

Pedro and him had met on Twitter, having bonded over talking about recent One Piece releases and had been talking since Shoyo was in high school and now at the age of nineteen, he decided he wanted to leave Japan and study in Rio de Janeiro for the remaining three years of his undergraduate studies. Pedro had been willing to let him room with him and here Shoyo was, across the world, knowing barely a lick of Portuguese.

He followed Pedro to the curb as he began bargaining with one of the taxi drivers, before he gave Shoyo the okay to put the bags in the trunk. Pedro helped him load the suitcase and the two were off, the taxi taking them to Pedro’s apartment. Shoyo stared out the window, watching the scenery bleed into a blur of greens and browns until the foliage broke away and he saw the glimmering sea beckoning to him. All his anxieties drifted away as he stared into the crystalline blue.

“Let’s get you settled in first and then we can go to the beach, yeah?” Shoyo turned towards Pedro and gave him a huge grin and a thumbs up. Pedro snorted, whispering a soft ‘nerd’ under his breath, before turning to fiddle with his phone. Shoyo turned back to the ocean and felt the smile settle to a content upturn of his lips. Maybe everything would end up being okay.

* * *

It’s harder than Shoyo expected. Pedro is good company, but he is low energy and more reserved than Shoyo ever is, just like Kenma. It hurts being able to draw parallels between Pedro and Kenma because Pedro isn’t Kenma, but he’s similar enough that it picks at the wound that Shoyo has let fester. He hasn’t told Pedro, knowing that the other is dealing with his own schooling and his own job, but Shoyo can’t help but long for Miyagi.

His one solace was the ocean, a steady presence he was sure will never leave him, no matter where he is. As long as he knew it was there, a possibility, he felt relief. Humans have barely studied the ocean, barely scratching the surface of the world that engulfs the majority of the planet. It’s terrifying—there were so many uncertainties to the ocean, yet Shoyo found himself loving her more with whatever scrap of knowledge he could swallow. He had thought he had found his corner in volleyball, the thrill of hitting a perfect set, and of seeing the view from the top.

It had been intoxicating.

Until he saw the ocean, truly saw her for who she was, for her ruthlessness and her gentleness. The ocean held no allegiance to anyone, a force of nature that could turn on you at the drop of a hat. The unknown, the sheer vastness of the waters, made his blood roar in his ears and made his breath come fast. He breathed in the scent of brine as he stood on the lonely beach in the middle of the winter, his breath puffing in a plume of condensation. He remembered reaching out, touching the ice-cold water and watching as the water leaked out of the cracks of his fingers, slipping from his grasp.

Shoyo knew he could chase volleyball for years, and maybe he would reach it one day. The sea was different; she could never be caught, and it was an eternal race that pumped his body filled with adrenaline. His fingers had shaken violently, but Shoyo never could tell if it were because of the cold, or the thrill of the promised chase.

He sat curled up, his chest resting on his chin as he tried to regulate his breathing. Why had it become so hard to do something that came naturally to every living creature that breathed in this way? He shut his eyes, and not for the first time he wondered if he made the correct decision. He looked out of his window, staring at the full moon and from his position, he could glimpse the shimmering of the moonlight reflecting a white path out to the water. When he was younger, he thought maybe he could walk that path. He wonders now, through the fear in his heart, if the hunger that consumed him and pushed him to this path would grant him a stable footing.

* * *

It was late, but Shoyo didn’t mind much. Yes, it was always best to not be walking the streets of Rio at night, just like anywhere else in the world, but sometimes it ends up happening as such. He rolled his bike along with him, front tire dragging with the lack of air. Shoyo sighed as he continued walking back to the apartment. He’d already texted Pedro earlier to let him know he’d be late, so he could take all the time in the world. He looked down the street he would cross, staring two blocks to where he knew the beach was. Like always, the ocean called to him, a longing he had known ever since he was a child. He felt himself already moving towards the ocean.

It was quiet, and there was a slight chill in the air, but the winters held no flame to the biting cold of Miyagi’s mountain air in the winter. The road was closer to a residential area, the beach would be almost empty, considering it was a weekday and the neighborhood had little movement. The closer Shoyo got to the beach, the more he could imagine the sand at his feet, the cool ocean air, the tang of salt water in his nostrils. He could almost taste it, and it made him feel invigorated. He jogged the remaining meters until he reached the edge of the sidewalk.

He spotted a bike rack and tied up his bike, before taking off his sneakers and socks and putting them in his bag. He looked out into the distance, breathed in deeply, and closed his eyes as his bare feet stepped on the sand. He ignored the small natural debris and rocks that dug into his soles and he opened his eyes, staring out into the churning ocean. He saw as the waves lapped at the shoreline; the waves were calm for tonight. Shoyo simply stood there, digging his toes in the soft sand, and let all thoughts of exams and the broiling feeling of homesickness wash away from him.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, his only companion the moon and the ocean as they danced their ancient push and pull. His ears picked up a noise, the faint sound of a familiar jazz piano playing in the distance. He turned, looking for the source of the music. He almost didn’t see the figure in the darkness of the night.

The moonlight was only able to illuminate the figure of a person crouched on the sand, a few meters down the beach from Shoyo. Shoyo felt himself stepping forward, the familiar melody becoming more obvious as the gentle voice of Aran Tomoko filled the space between them. Shoyo felt his heart clench, thinking about his mother playing the album around the house when they were cleaning on Sundays. His mother’s voice singing along, voice untrained and a bit pitchy, but a comfort Shoyo sorely missed. His heart ached, but at the same time, he felt a flood of peace and relief that there was another who knew this song—another soul that found solace in the measures of notes and chords and rippling jazz runs that made up _Monochrome_.

He’s almost upon the figure just as the last trumpet solo of the song begins. He can see dark hair falling over eyes and he can hear sniffles from underneath the music. Despite the sad scene, Shoyo can’t help the wistful smile that tugs at his lips. He remembered being in that exact same position a scant two months ago, back against the corner of his room, wishing desperately to be back in Miyagi, be able to see Natsu and his mom, hang out at Sakanoshita Market with his friends while Ukai scolded at them for making too much noise. He looked at the kindred soul on the beach, someone just like Shoyo, and he reached out.

“Hello, are you alright?” he asked in Portuguese, internally cringing at the question pronunciation at the end. The figure stiffened and jumped up and stumbled on the uneven sand. Shoyo reached out physically, grasping a muscled arm as the stranger almost fell. They looked up and Shoyo felt his heart jump into his mouth. The moonlight softened their features and the tears in their eyes shined in the white light. Shoyo wasn’t sure how long they stayed there in that position, all he knew was the warmth of the forearm in his grasp and the part of the other’s lips as their hair swayed in the breeze. _Monochrome_ had ended, and another song took its place. Another Japanese song. Yagami Junko.

“Who are you?” asked the other, their Portuguese marred with an accent exactly like Shoyo’s. Yagami Junko sang about her love in the background, asking for a hug. Shoyo gave a smile and took the chance.

“I’m Shoyo,” he introduced himself, Japanese rolling off his tongue for the first time to someone who wasn’t Pedro. The other’s eyes widened. “Do you miss the sky over there, too?” The other’s eyes filled with tears, but a smile graced their lovely features. Shoyo’s heart gave a squeeze as their lips formed a single word.

“Always,” replied the other, pearls falling down their eyes.

“My name is Tooru.”

* * *

He saw Tooru in the reflection of the stained glass windows that decorated the small chapel he passed by on his way to work, in the glare of the sunlight blinding him on his bicycle handlebars, and in the quick sets of the volleyball players he saw out on the beach. He feels his palm sting, yet all he can think about was Tooru bathed in moonlight and the sound of the sea in his ears.

Shoyo saw Tooru in the same, lonely spot in the sand for four consecutive nights. In those moments, there was only Tooru, Shoyo, and the sea. Tooru’s breaths rose and fell in tandem with the push and pull of the tides, his hands moved with the same airy motions of the wind that ruffled their hair, and his voice invaded all of Shoyo’s senses just like the smell of the sea. In his eyes, Shoyo could see the path he had chased down everywhere and knew that the ocean had arrived to guide him.

Shoyo rose to his feet and held out his hand, reaching for the sea in front of him. Moonlight stared at his hand, already tanned from the sun’s rays beating on his skin for the past two months, and the tides reached for him. Shoyo pulled as the sea pushed off the sand and for once, the ocean stayed in his palm, cool and close.

He realized—as he walked with Tooru’s hand in his to his shared apartment—that holding Tooru, _touching_ Tooru, would be the closest he would get to catching the sea. He gripped the unknown waters, and he squeezed in return, never seeping through the cracks in his fingers.

* * *

They talk, heart to hearts that weigh heavily on them but spill out of their mouths like a fountain, lips loosened by the hazy drunkenness that was being in each other’s presence. It was terrifying; Shoyo knew nothing about Tooru, only a name, a city in the center of Argentina, and a dream. Oftentimes, it felt like all Shoyo could do was behold the enigma that was Tooru.

“I’m chasing a dream,” Tooru said one night, as they laid down on the beach. Shoyo leaned on his side, propping his head on his hand as he stared at Tooru. “One that I know deep in my heart I will never achieve,” Shoyo stared at his profile as he digested Tooru’s soft words, his small confession. He thought of his dream and Tooru’s dream. He thought of the dreams of his own friends, of Kageyama, of Tsukishima, of Izumi, of everyone he had ever talked to. _I want to hold the ocean and not have her slip away._

The adrenaline raced in his bloodstream and he spoke. “Is that not the thrill of it?” he asked, almost flinching from the intense stare Tooru suddenly leveled at him. He doesn’t though, not when he knew he had nothing to fear when it came to Tooru. “A dream is an improbability, a fallacy we tell ourselves so that we may take that step forward,” He remembered the shine in Tooru’s eyes, a glint that had nothing to do with the reflection of the moonlight.

“It doesn’t have to be something feasible,” Shoyo continued, and his eyes drifted towards the sea; the mere sight gifted him the words to continue and he clenched his hand. “It just has to be something you love and that you can chase forever. Something that you will have fun doing. Something that will make that step count. It’s just one step, but it is also everything,”

He glanced back at Tooru, the handsome face surprised, lips slightly parted. Then, his face softened, and his lips curled into a small smile, a fragile smile. Shoyo’s heart gave a painful squeeze, and he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Tooru was the one who reached out this time, hand resting on Shoyo’s cheek as he looked into his eyes. It felt like Shoyo was suddenly at the bottom of the ocean, and his body was being crushed by the atmospheric pressure of the depths.

“Fun, huh?” whispered Tooru. He was beautiful, almost untouchable in the moonlight. There was something so regal about Tooru, the presence he had fit for a great ruler. Shoyo was willing to serve under that king, if Tooru would take him.

“Can I kiss you?” asked Shoyo, eyes never leaving Tooru’s. The other man’s eyes crinkled at the corner as his smile shone with the same brilliance of the moon.

“I thought you would never ask.”

* * *

The passing of a year into the next is frightening, the promise of new experiences and hardships weigh on the soul deeply. Last year, Shoyo had wondered if Japan was where he would be able to catch the sea, to hear and see her in her entirety. This year, he held the sea in his hand as they stumbled to the beach where they had met all those nights ago, stopping every few minutes for Tooru to snap a picture with his camera of whatever caught his inebriated fancy.

They kicked off their shoes and laughed as they ran towards the water, laughter flowing behind, carried off by the sea breeze. Tooru pulled Shoyo towards him and held him close, picking him up and spinning with no true coordination until the two landed on a heap in the sand. They stared at each other in silence, before the dissolved into drunken giggles. Shoyo pulled himself up, standing, and offered his hand just like he had the first time they met. Tooru’s eyes burned into him, and with a smile, he gripped Shoyo’s hand and pushed off the sand as Shoyo pulled him up.

They stayed there, standing in front of each other and ignored the distant sounds of celebration coming from the streets across the beach from them. Shoyo relished in the heat of Tooru’s skin against his own and leaned up, placing a kiss on soft lips, Tooru more than eager to reciprocate. They took a breath, lips still brushed up against each other.

“Your eyes are like the moon,” he whispered against Tooru’s lips, alcohol having lowered his inhibition, as he looked into deep brown eyes. They blinked down at him, before crinkling at the corners. He felt Tooru’s hand caress his cheek and he nuzzled into his palm, where he pressed a kiss to Tooru’s lifeline.

“The moon doesn’t shine without the sun,” began Tooru, a smile etched into his face. “So, I must thank you for letting me bathe in your rays and to glimmer with you,”

Shoyo could only stare at the emotion in Tooru’s eyes as he looked at him, as if he were looking deep into Shoyo’s soul. Tooru leaned down, closing the distance between them, and smiled against Shoyo’s lips. Shoyo shut his eyes and deepened the kiss when a bright flash engulfed them. He pulled back, being greeted by Tooru’s laughter as the other waved his camera in the air.

“Gotcha, Shoyo,” he laughed, face lighting up the whole beach. Shoyo rolled his eyes before he surged forward, swooping down, and swept Tooru off his feet. The camera fell with a soft thud on the gentle sand as Tooru let out a shriek.

“C’mon, Tooru! Time to jump the seven waves!!” screamed Shoyo, before he scrambled towards the ocean. Tooru screamed, wriggling in his arms as he approached the waves until Shoyo let him down. Despite it all, Tooru looked happy, positively beaming. He grabbed Shoyo’s smaller hand and squeezed, before counting off.

They jumped in unison, as one system, the seven waves that brushed their ankles. On the seventh, Tooru almost stumbled and would have landed in the water, were it not for Shoyo’s arm around his waist. Tooru gave him a sheepish smile, and it dawned on Shoyo just how much he loved the other man.

“Y’know,” he started, clearing his throat to catch Tooru’s attention. “Normally, you throw flowers into the ocean after finishing the jumps.” Shoyo shrugged as he fought down the grin trying to break through his mask of indifference. Tooru blinked at him as a look of confusion formed on his face.

“We don’t have flowers, though,” said Tooru, eyebrow raised. Shoyo could not fight it down any longer and allowed the mischievous grin to cross his face as he once again scooped the other in his arms.

“Don’t worry; I have someone way prettier than any old flower,” Shoyo watched as the startled look on Tooru’s face morphed to a horrified expression. Tooru cursed at him, a colorful mix of Spanish and Japanese, before Shoyo tossed him into the ocean, ripping a scream out of Tooru’s throat. Shoyo wheezed, buckling as Tooru resurfaced, hair plastered to his forehead as he glared at Shoyo. His laughter didn’t last too long because suddenly, Shoyo felt a hand grab his ankle and he let out a shriek as he fell, the pull knocking him off balance, and crashed into the water. He resurfaced only to stare at Tooru. They held eye contact for only a few seconds before they dissolved into giggles, the moon and the sea being the only witness to their joviality.

* * *

They laid on the beach on the fourth of January, hands clasped and bodies sinking into the cooling sand. They stared at the stars as their hands barely brushed each other. There was something in the air, something different, that terrified Shoyo, and it made him unable to look at Tooru. Tooru broke the silence, his voice strange in the darkness.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

_Ah. That was it._

Shoyo knew his days with Tooru were numbered. Tooru had a job in Argentina, a life there. He had built it there himself ever since he left Japan. It was a life he couldn’t throw away. It was also a life without Shoyo. Shoyo also had a life.

It just happened that it was also a life without Tooru.

Shoyo remained silent as he stared at the constellations he could see. He couldn’t think of what to say, never thought of it even though he knew it was only a matter of time. He should have known that the only constant he could have would be the sea. He didn’t know what to say about Tooru leaving, yet he would not let the moment pass in silence.

“I’m studying to be a marine biologist,” said Shoyo, refusing to look at Tooru. “I moved here from Miyagi. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I could be a conservationist, or an aquarist, or a curator at an aquarium in a different city. I don’t know, but I want to see the ocean, hear the sea, and feel her in my hand,” he whispered. He heard sniffles from next to him and though the sound was a barb in his heart, he refused to turn towards Tooru.

“I don’t know many things, but I do know that I was not meant for Japan and I know, deep in my heart, that I love you.”

Tooru let out a sob, and Shoyo felt his trembling hand rest in his smaller one. Shoyo gripped it with all his might; he knew Tooru wouldn’t mind and he was right, for he was rewarded with an equally strong grip.

“I’m about to graduate and start working to be a sports journalist,” came Tooru’s voice, strained yet still musical to Shoyo’s ears. “I came from Miyagi, too, and the weeks I’ve spent with you has been the best times of my life.” Shoyo felt his eyes tear up, and he finally turned to look at Tooru, breath stalling as he stared into those dark, dark eyes.

“Thank you for showing me,” Tooru whispered before he shifted closer. He sat up, sand falling from his clothes and his hair. It was a new moon, there was no light, and no path to guide Shoyo as he walked upon the sea. Tooru leaned down and pressed his trembling lips on his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Shoyo’s eyes burned as tears poured out of his eyes, as Tooru gave his hand one final squeeze before the sea slipped through the cracks of his fingers and walked away from the shore, away from the sand, and away from Shoyo.

* * *

He was on break from school until the next semester began and it was his day off. Shoyo barely left the house for any other reason, and he knew that Pedro was getting worried. Had been worried ever since Shoyo came back at one in the morning, tear tracks dried on his cheeks and cold from the sea breeze. He hated when his friends worried about him, so when Pedro had actually offered for them to watch a few episodes of One Piece together, Shoyo took him up, as if to tell him: _‘Look! I’m fine! I’m okay! Please don’t keep worrying about me!’_ But as he sat next to his roommate on the couch, he couldn’t help but think of soft hair in the wind and bright laughter in the dead of night.

It festered in him, the pain in his chest and he had no idea who to talk to. He looked at Pedro out of the corner of his eyes, the other’s eyes on the episode, but he seemed to be tense, as if he were waiting for something to happen. As if he were waiting for Shoyo. Shoyo took the proverbial olive branch.

“Pedro?” called out Shoyo, voice soft. The younger man turned to him and cocked his head to the side. He gestured for him to continue. “Have you ever fallen in love?”

He felt as Pedro froze next to him, saw as Pedro licked his lips—a nervous tick he always had. Pedro lowered the volume on the television, the movie they had been watching fading to the background as he focused on the conversation.

“Is this about Tooru?” Shoyo nodded, deciding not to comment on the change in topic. Pedro sighed and straightened up, pulling a throw pillow onto his lap, and started playing with the tassels.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

“I think I always will,” replied Shoyo. He looked down at his hand, the same hand that had held Tooru, touched him, and loved him. The emptiness stung like he had spiked a volleyball. The satisfaction was nonexistent.

Pedro remained silent for a moment, and the two friends existed in the silent little bubble of theirs. The silence wasn’t suffocating, it wasn’t judgmental, but it was thoughtful and considering. Pedro was a good friend, he did not partake in many discussions on feelings and emotions, but he was undeniably a good person.

“When you love him,” he began, brown fingers playing with the tassels, “the distance is painful. But you also realize along the line that separation, that distance, that _pain_ … It’s all still part of love,” It sounded personal, something that was Shoyo’s situation, but also entirely Pedro’s own feelings. The tassel was twisted harshly.

“This is still love.”

* * *

His lungs burned, forming a duet with the ache in his heart and Shoyo pushed himself. He couldn’t let Tooru slip past his finger yet. Not again. Not ever again. So, he ran, and ran, the impact of his shoes on the pavement sent jolts through his body. He maneuvers past pedestrians, a single-minded focus to beat the march of time and to be able to touch Tooru again.

_Faster. Run faster. Keep running or you’ll regret it for another seven years._

He slams into a man, his newspaper fluttering in the air and Shoyo stumbles, barely catching him as he kept running, ignoring the obscenities the older man yelled at him. He thought of Tooru’s smile, his touch, his laughter.

The sensation of his lips on Shoyo’s cheek made them feel like he had just been burned.

He ran up the stairs, almost falling as he jumped whole steps. Shoyo could hear the distant sound of the train screeching to a halt on the tracks as he finally broke through, feet slamming on the platform just as people began boarding. He looked everywhere, searching for the soft hair he had once run his finger through so long ago. He catches a flash of navy blue and swiveled in the direction, eyes landing on the figure shuffling towards the metro cart. Shoyo sucked in a breath before screaming out the name he had guarded so carefully in his heart.

Tooru turned and looked at him. Their eyes met and Shoyo forgot how breathtaking looking at Tooru was. His eyes narrowed as his brows furrowed, taking in everything that was Shoyo, before his eyes widened and he took a step forward. _One step_. Shoyo gave him the biggest smile he could make, heart feeling like a buoy in the ocean, floating. He watched as Tooru’s eyes shifted and he came running towards him.

_“Show me,” breathed Tooru, looking out of Shoyo’s bedroom window as he was bathed in the light of the morning sun, his bare back the only thing Shoyo could see._

Shoyo stood in his spot, watching the incoming tide coming to meet the shoreline, and he opened his arms. The crash of the waves onto a shoreline can be gentle; a simple lapping at the sand that carried away parts of the land. Other times, like this one, it’s aggressive, almost painful, but Shoyo reasoned as Tooru launched himself into his arms in the crowded station, the push is worth it.

“How long?” Shoyo whispered, his heart aching to know. He heard the sea in Tooru’s soft giggle. He could smell the brine in the air. He could feel the crash of waves on the shoreline.

“However long you’ll take me,” replied Tooru, before he pressed a kiss against Shoyo’s cheek, as he had done so long ago. A hello replacing a goodbye.

_Shoyo’s eyes traced the muscles of Tooru’s back, drinking in the tanned expanse of skin. He could never stop looking at Tooru, not now, not ever._

_“Show you what?” he whispered. It was a question that existed only in that moment, lived in the walls of Shoyo’s room in the small apartment he shared with Pedro, and breathed the sun’s rays as they engulfed the room. Tooru turned to him, a gentle smile gracing his features._

_“Show me how fun dreaming could be again, Shoyo.”_

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starocexn)


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